


An Inconspicuous Absence

by calgarry



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Gen, Mentions of Suicide, from a tumblr prompt, multi-chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-03-25 20:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3824743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calgarry/pseuds/calgarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the prompt: "Lucas gets kidnapped. For the better part of the first day, for whatever reasons, no one noticed."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A lot on his mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ruthc93](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruthc93/gifts).



> For the purposes of clarification (and because it makes it easier to write), Jo Martinez is referred to as Jo in this fic, while Joanne Reece is Reece.

Lucas Wahl stepped out the door of his apartment building, and shivered, pulling his coat tighter around his body. It had snowed the previous night, and the cold lingered in the air, crisp and fresh. Remnants of snow crunched underfoot as Lucas made his way down the street, making a mental note to grab a takeaway coffee at the first Starbucks he passed.

Unbeknownst to Lucas, a pair of eyes followed Lucas him across the street as he walked down the sidewalk. When Lucas was halfway down the block, the owner of the pair of eyes crossed the road and began to subtly tail him, closely watching his every move.

* * *

 

Henry Morgan was having a good day, and it was only 8 o’clock.

Abraham had surprised him earlier that morning with the news that he had done a deal with a major antiques supplier, which would allow them a special discount on the good-quality products. What’s more, an operatic record Henry had ordered had arrived in the mail that morning, and he was looking forward to playing it that evening.

Henry was in such a good mood, in fact, that he failed to notice anything amiss when he sailed through the morgue uninterrupted on his way to his office. He hung up his coat and scarf and relaxed into his chair, picking up the first case file on his desk: a Jane Doe, found in an abandoned warehouse the previous night. The initial report said she had been stabbed, but Henry was sure there would be more to the case. There usually was.

As Henry went out of his office and into the morgue he noticed for the first time the absence of a certain assistant medical examiner. Looking around, he could not see Lucas anywhere. _That’s strange_ , he thought briefly, _it’s not like Lucas to be late_.

He scanned the room again, to no avail. Ah well, Henry decided, he must have popped over to another department for something or other. Henry selected another assistant examiner – Ruby, her name was, or perhaps she was Rosie – and began the autopsy on the unnamed woman.

* * *

 

Nearly an hour later, Detectives Martinez and Hanson walked into the morgue. “Good morning, detectives!” Henry greeted them with a large smile.

Jo winced; how was it possible for someone to be _that_ chipper so early in the morning? Although admittedly, she would have been more alert, were it not for a loud party next door the previous night which had made it nigh on impossible to sleep. Her mood had not been improved one bit by her hot water cutting out in the morning, nor by the resulting cold shower and numerous calls to the gas company which had ultimately gone nowhere. And to top it all off, her car had broken down halfway to the office, making her walk the rest of the way in the cold. It was as if fate were laughing at her.

In short, Jo Martinez was having a bad day, and it wasn’t even nine o’clock.

“Morning,” she muttered when she and Mike drew closer. “What’ve we got?”

This woman,” Henry indicated the corpse in front of him, “died from an overdose of painkillers.”

Mike raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? The preliminary report said she was stabbed.”

“Oh, she was stabbed,” Henry assured him, “but that wasn’t what killed her.”

Jo frowned and rubbed her head. She wasn’t in the mood for Henry’s riddles. “What happened to this woman, Henry?” she demanded.

Henry smiled. “This woman was found in an abandoned warehouse, correct?”

“Yeah,” Mike confirmed, “late last night. And her name’s Catherine Jones,” he added, holding up a driver’s licence with the dead woman’s face on it. “This was just recovered, not far from the crime scene.”

“Well, judging by the stomach contents and slight foaming at the base of the oesophagus,” Henry indicated with one gloved finger, “I believe that Catherine Jones went to the warehouse alone yesterday evening, with the intention of committing suicide. If we look inside the stomach,” Henry held out one hand, and a medical instrument was placed in his palm by the person next to him, “we can see some undigested pills.”

Jo peered inside the body, and sure enough, there were several lumps of what could be sleeping tablets inside. She averted her gaze, looking instead at Henry. “So if she was committing suicide, why would somebody stab her?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” Henry admitted. “The stabbing must have occurred after death, although her would-be murderer may not have known she was dead. Until we can know more about Miss Jones, it will be difficult to find out what secrets she may have had.”

“Hold up,” Mike said, scratching his head. “If Catherine was committing suicide, why wasn’t there any sign of it at the crime scene? There was no pill bottle there, nothing like that.”

“Unless the person who stabbed her, took them?” Jo suggested.

“Whoever it was, she knew them,” Henry said. “Look at the upwards angle of the stab wound. She let the would-be-murderer get very close to her, and there are no other marks on her body, no signs of a struggle. If I were you, detectives, I would find out who Catherine’s friends and family are. Any one of them might have been responsible.”

Jo nodded, turning for the door. “Let’s go.” She was at the door when she realised that Mike wasn’t beside her. She turned back to see him still standing by the autopsy table, looking awkward. “Mike?”

Mike shifted his feet. “I’d love to go, Jo, really. But I might have slightly promised the wife that I’d stay in the precinct today and do paperwork. Her mother’s coming down to visit, and I might need to go pick her up from the airport. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Jo assured him. “I know how much you love spending time with your mother-in-law.”

Mike pulled a face.

Jo turned to Henry, who was trying not to look too hopeful. “How would you like to investigate another murder?” she offered.

Henry smiled. “I’ll get my scarf.”

He and Jo left the morgue together a minute later. Mike watched them go. “You know,” he remarked to the person next to him, “whenever those two leave, I always get the feeling they’re walking into the sunset together.”

There was a laugh from beside him, which Mike was surprised to notice was that of a female. He turned to see a young woman standing there, wearing scrubs, holding the medical implement that Henry had used earlier.

After a moment of frowning, Mike shrugged, and walked away. It made sense that Henry would use other assistant M.Es from time to time. He headed back up to his office, thinking instead of the day of paperwork that lay ahead, as well as the inevitable awkward car ride with his mother-in-law. He could hardly wait.

* * *

 

Mike Hanson did not return to the morgue until seven hours later, when Jo and Henry had returned. He followed them through the glass doors into the morgue, refreshingly cool after the stuffy office. He had hoped they would get around to fixing the heater by now, after being stuck on the highest setting for a week, but no such luck.

“Wait,” Mike said when he caught up to Jo. “It was Catherine’s _father_ who stabbed her?”

“Yup,” she said. “And it was all down to a disagreement about the pendant, some priceless family heirloom.”

Mike puffed out his cheeks. “That’s a hell of a reaction to someone wanting to sell some necklace.”

“Ah,” Henry said from in front of his office. He turned around, scarf flying around behind him dramatically. “It isn’t just _some necklace_. It was a priceless necklace with sapphire pendant, made in the 19 th century, with a jewelled bow from around 1660. There is only one other like it in the world, and it currently resides in the Victoria and Albert Museum, in London.”

Mike held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Okay, okay, Doc. I just meant that it seems drastic to kill your own daughter, that’s all. Hell, I feel like I could throttle my boys sometimes, but I’d never do them any harm, you know?”

“Oh,” Henry said. “In that case, I entirely agree with you.” He turned back around, his coat swishing behind him, and sailed into his office, dropping his coat on the stand on his way over to his desk.

Mike exchanged an amused glance with Jo. They followed Henry through into his office, where he was already sitting down, folding his hands together on the desk in front of him.

The two detectives stood somewhat awkwardly across from Henry. Mike couldn’t help being reminded of being summoned to the principal’s office, back when he was a boy. He shuffled his feet uncomfortably, unable to shake the feeling that he was in trouble for something.

Jo seemed more at ease. “Of course, it was Henry who really solved the case,” she told Mike. “He saw the link between Catherine and some princess who lived fifty years ago-”

“Princess Rosetta Polouvicka,” Henry supplied.

“-and used that to find the necklace, and the knife that he used. All in one day.”

Mike resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Sure, Henry was a nice guy, but sometimes the doc just seemed _too_ perfect. “Well done,” he said. “Great work, Henry. Maybe you should become a detective.”

Henry bowed his head modestly. “I hardly think I am that good at solving crimes. Besides, I do not think I could ever be as handy with a gun as you two are.”

“Not that we really need guns, in our profession,” said a quiet voice from the corner of the room. Mike jumped, and turned around to see the female assistant M.E standing behind him. He hadn’t noticed her come in. “Although,” she continued, “it would be cool to be able to do that.”

Henry pursed his lips, but before he could say anything, there was a knock at the door. They all turned around to see Lieutenant Reece standing outside the door, looking in. Mike leaned forwards and opened the door for her, and Jo moved to the side to make room for Reece to stand. The office was beginning to feel crowded.

“Lieutenant,” Henry greeted her, warm as ever. “How can I help you?”

“I heard you did some good detective work today,” Reece told him. “Well done. Perhaps we should put you on our payroll.”

Henry smiled. “I don’t think I’m cut out to be a detective,” he said again. “I prefer the medical side of things. I have more experience with death, than with solving deaths.”

“Yeah, I’m sure being a grave digger was very illuminating,” Mike muttered.

Jo tried to hide her smile.

“Was there anything else, Lieutenant,” Henry asked, “or did you come down merely to offer me a job?”

“Actually,” Reece said, “I was looking for Lucas. I need to give him back a book he loaned me.” She looked around the room. “Where is Lucas, by the way?”

Henry froze, glancing around the morgue. Sure enough, Lucas was nowhere to be seen. “I…do not know,” he admitted. “Come to think of it, I don’t recall seeing him at all today.”

Reece turned to look at Mike and Jo, who shook their heads. “I assumed he was sick or something,” Jo said.

Henry shook his head. “Lucas always calls in to let me know when he is sick,” he said. “I haven’t heard from him.”

He looked questioningly towards Rosie, who shrugged. “I hardly know the guy,” she told the group. “Maybe he forgot to call in?”

Henry restrained himself from rolling his eyes. “Lucas has an uncanny memory. He does not forget anything, especially not things like this.”

“Henry,” Reece said, bringing attention back to her, “are you seriously telling me that your assistant M.E has been missing all day, and _you didn’t notice_?”

All eyes swivelled back to Henry, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I…had a lot on my mind?” he said hopefully.

Reece rolled her eyes.

“I tell you what,” Henry suggested, “I shall go around to his flat now, and see if he is there. It’s been rather a slow day at the morgue, and I am sure that Ruby here is more than capable of handling the autopsies.”

“Rosie,” she corrected him, but she couldn’t help smiling, standing up a little straighter at his praise. It was widely known that Dr Morgan was one of the best medical examiners in New York City (if not the whole country), and to hear such a statement from him was a rare treat. Even if he did forget her name.

“Yes, yes,” Henry said. “Rosie can continue here, and I’ll go round to Lucas’ apartment.” He stood up to go, then paused as a realisation hit him. He turned back to the assembled detectives “Where exactly _is_ Lucas’ apartment?” he inquired.

Jo and Reece shrugged, looking at each other.

“Try his personnel file,” Mike suggested.

“Excellent idea,” Henry agreed, “except that I don’t have access to his personal information.”

“Well, who does?” Jo asked.

“In this department, only our direct bosses have access to our files,” Rosie said helpfully. “It’s a stupid system.”

“And Lucas’ boss is Doctor Epstein,” Henry told the detectives.

“Who is away today,” Rosie added. “Out of town.”

“What, so we can’t find out where the guy lives?” Mike asked.

“It would seem not,” Henry said.

“Does anyone have his phone number?” Mike asked pragmatically.

Everyone shook their heads, looking around at each other.

“Hold on,” Reece said. All eyes in the room turned to her, and she held up a small paperback book. “Lucas loaned me this book. He wrote his name and address inside the back cover, in case something happened to it.”

Henry raised his eyebrows. “Lucas thought you would lose it?”

She gave him a wry smile. “He didn’t say so in as many words.”

“Well, he’s meticulous, I’ll give him that,” Jo remarked.

“There are many words that could be used to describe Lucas,” Henry agreed, “but careless is certainly not one of them.”

“Anyway,” Reece said, “here’s the address, if you want it.” She stepped forwards and handed the book to Henry, opening it to the back cover.

“‘Property of Lucas Wahl,” he read aloud. “‘Please return to 361 West 51st Street, Manhattan.’ I shall go right away,” he said, standing up and reaching for his scarf, beside him on his desk. Henry headed towards the door, grabbing his coat from the coat stand on the way past, and the others parted to give him room. “And I’ll give him this back as well,” he told Reece, holding up the book. She nodded.

“Wait, Henry,” Jo said, just before he stepped out the door. He paused, raising a questioning eyebrow, and she reached into her pocket. “Take this with you,” she said, pulling out her cellphone and handing it to him. “It’ll be quicker to contact us when you get there, rather than having to come all the way back here. You can call Mike or the Lieu, their numbers are both in there, in the contacts.”

Henry nodded, carefully taking the phone from her hand. “Contacts,” he repeated, making sure he understood. “Thank you, Jo,” he said, putting the phone inside his own pocket delicately, as if it could break at any moment. He put Lucas’ book in his other pocket, then turned to Rosie. “I’m sure you will do an excellent job at the autopsies,” he told her lightly, and then he was gone, his coat swishing around him as he went out the door.

Jo looked at Rosie. “How long have you worked here?” she asked. “I don’t remember seeing you before today.”

“Only a couple of weeks,” Rosie said. “I’ve never worked with Doctor Morgan before, though.”

“That might explain it,” Jo said, nodding.

“Yeah,” Mike said teasingly, “Jo only notices things when Henry’s involved.”

Jo lashed out with one hand, catching Mike hard in the side of his ribs, and he winced, looking around indignantly. Reece looked away, pretending not to notice, and Mike sighed, deciding it was probably in his best interests to shut up.


	2. Breaking In

Henry Morgan stood outside the door of what he hoped was Lucas Wahl’s apartment. He was certain that was in the correct building, although several of the apartment numbers were missing, so Henry had had to count the past ten doors in his head.

He lifted his fist, and paused for a moment before knocking gently on the door. There was no response, so he tried again, and was rewarded by the sound of footsteps emnating from within. Henry stepped back expectantly, watching as the door opened a crack and someone peered out.

Henry squinted. The door wasn’t open enough for him to see who it was. “Lucas?” he said.

The door opened wider, to reveal an unkempt man who looked to be in his early fourties, wearing a pair of jeans and no shirt. He and Henry stared at each other for a long moment, before a male voice was heard from within his apartment. “Stephen, who is it?”

Stephen looked Henry up and down for a moment, before glancing back inside the apartment. “I dunno, darling,” he said in a gravelly voice. Then, to Henry, “What do you want?”

“I appear to have the wrong apartment,” Henry said apologetically. “I was looking for Lucas Wahl. I’m a…friend of his.”

Stephen frowned, scratching his head and further rumpling his already messy hair. “Young guy? Skinny?” he muttered eventually.

“That’s correct.”

Stephen pointed wordlessly at the door across the hallway, and Henry turned around to look at it, before turning back to him. “Thank you.”

Stephen grunted in response, and closed the door without another word.

Henry raised his eyebrows, and turned back towards the door across the hallway, taking the two steps across the slightly dusty wooden floor to what he really hoped was the correct apartment. He raised his hand again, knocking firmly on the door. There was no answer, so he tried again, to no avail.

“Lucas?” he tried calling, gently at first, then again, more loudly, “Lucas? Are you there?”

A door squeaked open down the hallway, and an older lady poked her head out the door and glared at him. She looked much younger than Henry, but he couldn’t help but feel slightly apprehensive as she stared at him disapprovingly. He raised a hand in what he hoped was an apologetic gesture, and her head disappeared back into the apartment.

Henry breathed a sigh of relief, turning back to Lucas’ door. He quickly scanned the door, looking carefully around the doorframe, trying to see…there! Above the top right-hand corner of the doorframe, something metallic glinted in the dim light from the strip light overhead. Stepping back to get a better view, Henry could see the outline of a small, silver key, stuck to the top of the doorframe.

Henry tutted to himself at Lucas’ lack of security measures. He glancied up and down the hallway to check he was not being watched, before reaching up and retrieving the key. Or at least, he reached up and tried to retrieve the key, only to find that he was a few inches too short. Which was a strange feeling, for someone who was used to being taller-than-average.

Henry waved his fingers, infuriatingly close to the top of the doorframe, and sighed. Why couldn’t immortalty come with side effects, such as telekinesis?

Henry stepped backwards, looking up and down the hallway again to be doubly sure that nobody was watching him. He took a breath, then stepped forwards again, using his momentum as leverage to jump upwards. His fingers closed around the key, which he realised had been blue-tacked to the doorframe, and he landed on the wooden with a _thud_ that echoed up and down the hallway. Key in hand, Henry unlocked the door, and was inside Lucas’ apartment before the nosy neighbour could so much as open her door.

Inside the apartment, Henry looked around to find himself standing in a short hallway, which opened out onto a larger living room. He walked through, calling out “Lucas?” as he did so, just in case. There was no reply.

Henry stood in the middle of the living room and looked around. It was clean, and for the most part, tidy. The surprisingly minimalistic furniture was not to Henry’s taste, but even he had to admit that Lucas had done a good job with the layout of the room, making it seemed much larger than it really was. Henry hadn’t known that his assistant had a knack for interior design. He almost wouldn’t have known it was Lucas’ apartment, were it not for the comic book open on the table, and the tell-tale scent of Lucas’ strong aftershave which still lingered in the soft drapes at the window.

Henry walked through into the bedroom, which was similarly furnished. Glancing around, he could not see anything obviously amiss, save for the unmade bed and unopened curtains. It looked as if Lucas had left for work in a hurry that morning, and had not had time to tidy up beforehand.

After a cursory look in the kitchen and bathroom, Henry pulled Jo’s phone out of his pocket. He frowned at it, wondering for a moment how to turn it on before noticing a small button on the bottom. He pushed the button, and jumped slightly when the screen lit up with upside-down writing. It took Henry another moment to realise that it was the phone that was upside down, not the text. He turned it around somewhat sheepishly so the button was on top, glad that nobody had been around to see his faux pas.

The screen held a picture of Jo and her late husband, laughing together. Henry stared at Jo’s face, noticing how happy and relaxed she looked, in a way that she had not since Henry had known her.

Suddenly, the screen went black. Henry jumped again, before pressing the button again to make the screen light up. He focused this time on the text onscreen, noticing that it held the time, 3:31pm, as well as a curious message that said ‘slide to unlock’.

It took Henry two tries before he managed to work out how to “slide to unlock”, but when he did, he was confronted by a screen full of small icons. Remembering what Jo had said earlier, he tapped on the icon that said ‘Contacts’, and managed to find Mike Hanson’s name in the list. Again, it took Henry a couple of attempts, but eventually he managed to call the detective.

“Hanson.”

“Good afternoon, Detective,” Henry said, gingerly holding Jo’s phone between two fingers.

Mike swung his legs off his desk and sat upright. “Henry?” he said.

Jo’s head jerked up from her paperwork, staring at Mike. “Where is he? Has he found Lucas?” she asked.

Mike held up a hand to quiet her, listening to the phone. “Yup, okay…he isn’t at home? Then how are you…wait, you broke in?!”

“He did _what_?” Jo mouthed.

“Henry, you can’t just go into Lucas’ flat like that,” Mike was saying exasperatedly. “Even if he did leave a key out…what? Fine, you can talk to Jo.” He held the receiver out to Jo, rolling his eyes.

Jo took the couple of steps across to Mike’s desk and grabbed the phone. “Henry? It’s me.”

“Well, certainly it didn’t sound like Detective Hanson,” Henry said dryly.

It was Jo’s turn to roll her eyes. “Very funny. What’s the story with Lucas?”

“I’m at his apartment,” Henry said, “but he is not. He was definitely here this morning, but it seems left in a hurry, judging by the breakfast dishes on the bench and the unmade bed. Also, his alarm clock has been knocked over. All in all, I’d suggest that he overslept and was late.”

Jo was about to respond when Lieutenant Reece walked in. “Any news from Henry?” she asked immediately.

Mike nodded to Jo, who was leaning on his desk, talking into his phone. “She’s talking to him now.”

Reece walked over and pressed a button on Mike’s phone. Suddenly, Henry’s voice was projected into the room through the loudspeaker. Jo put the receiver down on the desk, leaving the line open.

“…must have disappeared on the way to the morgue,” Henry was saying.

“Hi, Henry,” Reece said. “You’re on speaker, so you can talk to all of us.”

“Excellent,” Henry said, taking a moment to marvel silently at the capabilities of the NYPD’s phones. He was the first to admit that he was not a fan of technology, but even he had to admit that it was impressive, being able to talk to a room full of people at once like that. “I was just explaining that Lucas isn’t at his apartment at the moment. There are no signs of anything untoward here. I would estimate that he disappeared at some point between here and the morgue.”

Reece leaned forward on the desk, mimicking Jo’s position. “Any clues as to where he might have gone? Did he stop anywhere on his way, maybe?”

Henry frowned, looking around the apartment for something, anything, that might have told him where Lucas had gone. He noticed a stack of small papers in one corner of the kitchen bench, and made his way over to it quickly. “I may have something,” he said, picking up the top piece of paper and reading it.

“It appears that Lucas’ meticulousness may be useful in this case,” Henry said after a moment. “It appears that he kept all his receipts. He has them piled up chronologically.”

The three detectives exchanged an amused glance.

Henry shifted through the pile quickly. “According to these receipts, Lucas regularly went to a coffee shop on his way to work in the morning. He has gone there every day this week, as well as last week.”

Reece nodded. “Brilliant. Great work, Henry. Can you go to the coffee shop?”

“Of course,” came the reply.

“If you don’t mind, Lieu,” Jo said, “I’d like to go with Henry. He could use a police officer, and besides, whatever’s happened to Lucas could be dangerous.”

Reece shook her head regretfully. “We’re the Homicide division,” she reminded Jo. “Lucas hasn’t even been missing long enough to go to the Missing Persons squad, and we should hope that the case doesn’t come to us.”

Mike spoke up. “It’s a slow day, Lieu,” he said. “Not many murders, and besides, I just got a text from my wife to say that her mother’s flight has been delayed, until at least tomorrow. I can work on some of Jo’s paperwork if she wants to go.”

Henry’s voice came crackling through the speaker. “It would be useful to have a detective, Lieutenant,” he said. “People are more likely to talk to a police officer than to a civilian, in my experience.”

Reece looked between Mike and Jo, considering. “I might be able to turn a blind eye,” she said eventually. “ _If_ ,” she added sternly, “you keep me updated on every that happens, you hear?”

Jo nodded, grinning. “Where’s the coffee shop?” she asked Henry. He gave the address, and she turned around to grab her coat.

Reece disconnected the phone line. When Jo went past her towards the door, she held up a hand, stopping her in her tracks. “Be careful, Jo,” she warned. “And look after Henry, will you? I have a feeling he’ll need it.”

Jo nodded, remembering the times that Henry had willingly thrown himself into dangerous situations for the sake of a case. “I’ll keep him safe,” she said. “Don’t worry.” She gave Reece a confident smile, and continued towards the door, pulling her coat on as she went.

When the door closed behind Jo, Reece turned to Mike. “Are you sure you don’t mind doing the extra paperwork?” she asked.

“If it helps Jo to find Lucas, I’m all for it,” he told her. “What can I say? I’ve got a soft spot for the guy.”

Reece smiled. “Haven’t we all?”


	3. The Brown Sugar Bakery

It was nearly four o’clock when Jo arrived at the coffee shop to find Henry standing outside, shivering in the wind. He turned around as she approached. “Detective,” he greeted her in his customary manner, holding out her phone to her.

“Hi Henry,” she said, taking the phone and looking up at the shop front. “This is the place, then?” It was a nice-looking shop, with a wooden front, and small windows complete with lace curtains. It could almost be mistaken for a house, were it not for the large sign above the door that proudly proclaimed it was the ‘Brown Sugar Bakery’.

“It is,” Henry confirmed. He held out an arm to indicate that Jo should go first, and she did, hurrying up the steps and through the door. Henry followed her, and closed the door firmly against the cold outside, turning to the warmth from within.

The interior of the shop was cosy, with squashy arm chairs around small wooden tables. There was even a fake fire, crackling in a grate in one corner of the café. A wooden counter ran along one wall, in front of several wooden shelves which held what was left of the day’s bread. The room was devoid of customers, which surprised Henry: he would have expected that in the current weather, people would be flocking to a place like this for their coffee, even this late in the afternoon.

At first, it had appeared that there was nobody else at all in the coffee shop-come-bakery. However, as Jo and Henry approached the counter, a small woman appeared from behind the large espresso machine, wearing a brown apron and a large smile. “What can I do for you folks today?” she asked, looking at each of them in turn. “Wait, don’t tell me, let me guess…” She squinted at Henry. “A pot of tea for you, and,” she turned to Jo, “a long black for you. Am I right?”

Henry and Jo exchanged a surprised glance, before looking back at the woman behind the counter. “That’s absolutely right,” Jo said slowly, “but unfortunately we’re not here as customers.” She pulled her jacket aside to reveal the badge on her belt. “I’m Detective Jo Martinez with the NYPD, and this is Doctor Henry Morgan. We’re making inquiries about a suspected missing person who we believe might have come here this morning. His name is Lucas Wahl. Would you happen to know him?”

The woman’s cheerful expression had faltered slightly when she saw the badge, but by the time Jo had finished speaking she was back to her earlier sunny disposition. “Lucas Wahl,” she said thoughtfully. “I’m not sure. What does he look like?”

“He’s about six feet and two inches tall,” Henry supplied, indicating the height with one hand, “with brown hair. We believe he comes in here every morning.”

The woman’s eyes lit up. “Skinny guy, bit nerdy-looking?” she asked, and Henry and Jo nodded. “I know him,” the woman continued. “He’s one of our regulars. Large cappuccino and a croissant, every morning at quarter to eight, regular as clockwork.”

Henry nodded. “All the receipts in Lucas’ apartment were for one cappuccino and one croissant,” he told Jo.

“Do you know if Lucas was here this morning?” Jo asked the woman, who shrugged.

 “I’m normally on the morning shift, but I’ve been moved to the afternoon, as of today. I think Joel was on this morning, though.” The woman turned, and called out “Hey! Joel!” into the kitchen behind her. Her voice was surprisingly strident for such a small woman.

A tall man with an impressively large beard poked his head out of the kitchen door. “What is it, Stevie?”

Stevie pointed to Henry and Jo. “These two are from the NYPD, they’re looking for one of our morning regulars. The tall nerdy guy, you know the one?”

Joel snapped his fingers. “Cappuccino and a croissant, right? He was here this morning, I remember. The guy was running late, and he was hoping he wouldn’t get chewed out by his boss.”

Henry raised his eyebrows, and Jo tried to cover her laughter with a rather unconvincing cough. “Would you happen to know where he went after he left?” she asked Joel.

“Not sure,” he said, “but I think he goes down the alley beside the shop.” He pointed to the east wall. “It’s a shortcut to his work or something.”

Henry nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, that would be a quicker route for Lucas to get to the morgue,” he mused.

“Do you work with him?” Joel asked, and Henry nodded. “Wow,” he said. “It must be cool working with the chief medical examiner!”

This time, Jo was unable to hide her chuckle.

“Excuse me?” Henry asked.

“Oh, Lucas was always mentioning how he managed to get the top job in the morgue,” Stevie told him. “It’s so impressive at such a young age, don’t you think?”

Henry opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Jo.

“Right, Henry,” she said hastily, “we should go and check out this alley. Thank you for your time,” she said to Stevie and Joel, before grabbing Henry’s arm and practically frog-marching him out of the shop.

Once they were outside, Henry turned to Jo. “What was that for?”

She sighed. “Look, Henry. Lucas has obviously managed to impress the people in there. Goodness knows you do enough impressive things every day, surely you can give Lucas this.”

Henry considered for a moment, then he nodded. “You’re right, of course.”

“Good.” Jo turned to walk towards the alley Joel had pointed out, before realising that Henry was giving her a strange look. “What is it?” she asked impatiently.

“Do you really think I’m impressive?” he asked.

She gave him a withering look. “Shut up.”

Henry raised his eyebrows, and followed Jo around the corner to the alleyway Lucas had reportedly gone down.

At the first glance, the alley appeared to be a perfectly average, empty alley leading to the next street over. The walls were brick, with a few dustbins on either side of the road, which was only wide enough for one vehicle at most. The place had a slightly grimy feel, which was balanced out by the delicious smells of baking which came from the bakery’s vents.

However, upon further inspection, Henry noticed something amiss. About halfway down the alley sat an upturned coffee cup, with the contents spilling out onto the road. Henry strode along and crouched down, pulling off one glove and gently touching the cup with the back of his hand. As he suspected, it was stone cold, as was the liquid on the cobblestones.

Beside him, Jo had also noticed something. A few feet away from where Henry crouched sat a paper bag. Out of habit, she slipped a rubber glove on before walking over and picking it up. She looked inside, and jumped, tossing the bag on the ground with a small yelp.

Henry looked over in time to see a rat run out of the bag and into a gutter. He looked up at Jo, who bent down again and picked up the bag, this time considerably more gingerly. Looking inside, she saw the remains of a croissant, covered with tiny tooth marks. Jo supressed a shudder, walking over to Henry.

“One croissant,” she said, holding up the paper bag as evidence.

Henry lowered his fingers from his nose. “And this, I believe, was once a cappuccino,” he added.

Somehow, it didn’t surprise Jo that Henry had coffee-detecting senses. “You think this was Lucas’ breakfast?” she asked.

Henry stood up, surveying the scene. “It is a very real possibility,” he said grimly. “If Lucas – or someone else, of course – were talking down here on their way to work, and then were disturbed by something-”

“Or someone,” Jo added.

“-then it would make sense that they would drop their drink where they stood,” Henry said, miming letting go of something over the spilt coffee on the ground. “Say Lucas – or another person – was grabbed from behind…actually, do you mind?” he asked Jo.

She frowned. “Do I mind what?”

“Being Lucas,” Henry explained. “Just briefly.”

Jo glanced up and down the alley. Sure enough, they were alone. “Okay,” she shrugged. “Where should I stand?”

“Just here, if you would,” he told her, indicating a spot next to the spilt coffee. She walked over, still holding the paper croissant bag, and stood where he asked, facing away from the street they had just come from. “Right,” Henry continued. “Imagine you’re walking down this alley, and someone comes up behind you, possibly grabbing you.” He stepped behind her, placing his hands gently on her upper arms. “You’re surprised, so you drop your drink.”

Jo mimed dropping something, like Henry had done a few moments earlier.

“So someone’s holding you from behind, and you don’t know who it is,” Henry said, still holding Jo’s arms. “What do you do?”

Jo frowned. “I’d struggle, try to get them off me,” she said. “Maybe try to turn around, see who it is.”

“Excellent,” he said.

There was a pause. After a moment’s silence, Jo got the hint, and began to half-heartedly swivel her shoulders, as if trying to get Henry to let go.

A few seconds later, Henry abruptly let go of her. “Something’s not right,” he said thoughtfully. “Lucas is quite tall, more so than either of us. Statistically, his attacker would be more likely to be shorter than him.”

“You’re taller than me,” Jo pointed out.

In response, Henry bent his knees behind her and took hold of her arms, but on her elbows doe to the different angle. He had a firmer grip this time, and Jo felt somehow less awkward pretending to struggle. She leaned forwards and swivelled her torso, which was easier said than done: Henry had a tight grip.

After a few moments, Jo tried to yank her right arm away from Henry even harder. His grip held still, and all she achieved was twisting her arm on an uncomfortable angle when she turned back to the left.

Well, perhaps that wasn’t all she achieved. After a few moments, Jo realised that she was no longer holding the paper bag. Confused, she stilled and turned her head, looking for the bag.

Henry followed her gaze, to see the paper bag lying on the ground, only a couple of feet away from where Jo had found it a minute earlier. He released her arms and stepped back, nodding to himself. “So the evidence would coincide with someone grabbing Lucas,” he mused. “If only there was a way of knowing who, and where they took him.”

Jo, meanwhile, was looking upwards, scanning along the walls on either side of the alley. “There might be a way,” she said, pointing to the corner of the bakery.

Henry again followed her gaze, to see a CCTV camera mounted on the corner of the shop, looking at them. “Jo, you’re brilliant,” he said, turning to head back to the front of the bakery. “We can ask to see their footage, to ascertain exactly what happened,” he called back as he walked.

After a moment, Jo caught up to him. “We don’t need to ask,” she reminded him, holding up her NYPD badge.

Two minutes later, Jo and Henry were seated in front of a small security monitor in a cramped office, with the small Stevie hovering behind them. Onscreen they could see a figure which was unmistakeably Lucas Wahl, making his way down the alley hours earlier. As they watched, a black van pulled up beside him, and two masked people jumped out. They grabbed Lucas and bundled him into the back of the van, before driving off, leaving only his breakfast behind.

Stevie clapped a hand to her mouth, while Jo and Henry exchanged a grim look. “It was as we thought,” Henry said.

Jo stood up, reaching into her pocket for her phone. She dialled Lieutenant Reece’s number, and walked out of the room as it began to ring.

Inside, Stevie, still had a hand over her mouth. “Will he be all right?” she asked Henry, her voice muffled. “Can you two find him?”

Henry was still staring at the monitor, which bore the frozen image of the van speeding away from the alley. “I will find him,” he told her firmly. “I have to.”

Jo poked her head through the door. “Can you back up the video to when the van comes on screen?” she asked Stevie, who nodded and removed her hand from her mouth, doing as Jo asked. “Thanks,” Jo told her, squinting at the screen. She read out the registration plate into the phone.

At the police station, Reece carefully copied the numbers onto a notepad. “Thanks,” she told Jo, holding the paper out to Mike, who took it and began to enter the numbers in the computer.

“So you found his breakfast?” she asked Jo while they waited.

“Yeah,” Jo said, “although the rats got to the pastry hours ago.”

“We’ll have to buy Lucas a new one, when he’s found,” Reece suggested.

Before Jo could reply, she heard Mike speaking on the other end of the line. “That van is registered to a James Carter,” he said. “I’ll text you the address.”

“Right,” Jo said. “We’ll get over there right away.” She was about to hang up when Reece spoke.

“You know, now we have evidence that Lucas was snatched,” Reece said, “we should hand the case over to missing persons. It’s not a homicide case, as far as we know, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Jo glanced back into the security office, where Henry was still glaring at the monitor, as if his eyes could bore holes into the screen and bring Lucas back. “I know we should hand it over,” she told Reece, “but I’d really like to stay on it, if I may. There aren’t many homicides at the moment, and I’d just be doing paperwork back at the office. Besides, it would mean a lot to Henry – I think he blames himself for not noticing that Lucas was missing earlier.”

There was a rush of static as Reece sighed.

“I can cover some of Jo’s work,” Mike offered. “My wife rang, says that her mother’s actually arriving tomorrow, not today. I can try and find a link between James Carter and Lucas as well.”

There was a long pause before Reece answered. “All right,” she said eventually. “I don’t trust the new lieutenant in the Missing Persons unit, anyway. She’s slightly too smug.”

Jo grinned, knowing Reece couldn’t see her.

“But I don’t want Henry going into any dangerous situations, all right?” Reece added. “If you think you need backup, you call for it right away. And no heroics. Do you hear?”

Jo nodded. “I’ll look after Henry,” she assured her.

“Good luck,” Reece said. “And stop grinning!” She hung up the phone.

Jo out her phone away ad turned back to the security office. “Henry?” she called.

Henry turned and stood up, going out to join her in the corridor. “Well?”

She nodded. “We’re on,” she told him. “Except-”

“Lieutenant Reece says that I have to do as I’m told,” Henry finished for her. She nodded, surprised, and he smiled. “Let’s go, then.” He turned and strode down the corridor.

After a few moments, Jo followed him. Of course, the priority was finding Lucas before the Missing Persons squad found out about him. If that failed, she knew it would be an interesting afternoon, at least.


	4. The Abandoned Van

Exactly forty-one minutes after leaving the bakery, Jo and Henry stood outside the home of one James Carter. Jo looked at the address on her phone, then up at the house. “This is it,” she told Henry. “You ready?”

He nodded, gesturing towards the house with one hand. “Ladies first.”

She led the way up the steps to the front door, rolling her eyes. Henry was so old-fashioned sometimes.

Jo knocked firmly on the large blue door, and froze when the door swung slightly ajar. Eyes darting to the lock, she realised that it had been broken. Someone had evidently forced their way into the house, and pushed the door closed behind them.

In a heartbeat, Jo had her gun out and ready. She glanced to Henry. “Stay here,” she hissed, before pushing the door open with her shoulder and stepping cautiously inside. She made her way slowly down the hallway, pointing her gun through each open doorway she passed.

After a few moments, Henry followed Jo inside and down the hallway, unbeknownst to her.

Jo stepped into the living room to look around. A sofa sat in the middle of the room, and she inched her way over to it. She approached the corner, gun at the ready…

“Jo! In here!”

Jo’s head snapped up, and she spun around at the sound of Henry’s voice. “Henry,” she hissed. “Where are you?”

“In the kitchen!”

Jo rolled her eyes and went back into the hallway, quickly locating the kitchen amongst the room she hadn’t yet been in. “I thought I told you to stay-”

She cut herself off at the sight of Henry kneeling on the floor, next to a figure lying on the floor which Jo guessed was James Carter. His face was covered in blood, and Henry had one hand on his throat, checking his pulse. “Is he alive?” she asked cautiously.

“Yes,” Henry told her, carefully moving the short man’s body into the recovery position, “but only just.”

Jo pulled out her phone and dialled 911, requesting an ambulance. Meanwhile, Henry stood up and looked around the room.

When she finished the call, Jo turned to Henry. “So what do you think happened?”

“He was knocked unconscious by a single blow to the side of the head,” Henry said. “He was likely struck by a heavy, blunt object, judging by the wound. In fact, I would hazard a guess that he was struck by this rolling pin,” he said, pointing to an object on the bench.

Jo followed his gaze. “This guess wouldn’t be anything to do with the fact that the rolling pin is covered in blood, would it?” she deadpanned.

“I would imagine that his attacker came from behind.” Henry continued as if she had not spoken. “Mr Carter would have been knocked unconscious almost instantly.”

“And he stayed out for the whole day?” Jo asked, looking down at the man on the floor uncomfortably.

“I don’t think so,” Henry said grimly. “Look at the blood on his hands, and the smears on the floor. I would estimate that he woke up several times and attempted to move, but passed out shortly afterwards.”

“Poor guy,” Jo said.

“It’s a miracle that he’s still alive,” Henry said. “By all accounts, James Carter should be dead.” Suddenly, he froze, a far-away look in his eye that Jo knew only too well.

“Hey,” she said, snapping her fingers in front of Henry’s face. “Snap out of it.”

Henry blinked, coming back into himself.

“Are you okay?” Jo asked, looking concerned.

“Perfectly, thank you.” He flashed her a smile. “I do apologise.”

“It’s fine,” Jo assured him. “Looks like we’ve lost our lead, though,” she said, moving on to a different topic.

“It would appear so,” he agreed. “I don’t think that the victim will be able to speak for quite some time.”

“It could be too late for Lucas by then,” Jo pointed out.

Henry was about to agree when Jo’s phone began to ring. She pulled it out of her pocket, briefly glancing at the screen before answering. “Hi, Mike.”

She paused, listening to whatever Mike was saying. “Yeah, we’re at the guy’s house. He’s been beat up pretty bad, though. We won’t get anything out of him for a while.” She listened for a few more moments. “Really? Where is it?” Another pause, then, “Thanks, Mike. That’s great news. Bye.”

Jo hung up and turned to Henry. “That was Mike.”

“So I gathered,” he said dryly. “What was the great news?”

“Apparently the victim’s vehicle was found down by the East River, next to the bridge, late this morning,” she told him. “We can go there as soon as the ambulance gets here.”

“Deus ex machina,” Henry muttered to himself.

“What?”

“I said that’s good news,” he said, this time more loudly. Jo nodded, and Henry turned back to the unconscious man on the floor, frowning to himself. This was a little _too_ convenient.

* * *

 It took fifteen minutes for the ambulance to arrive, and another twenty for Henry and Jo to get to the site of the abandoned van. The sun was dipping low over the horizon as the stepped out of the car and walked over to the vehicle, which sat on a patch of grass in the middle of a park, swarming with forensic workers in blue clothing.

“How’s it looking?” Jo called out as they approached one of the crime scene examiners. He was a large man, who held a doughnut in a bag in one hand. Henry recognised him, but couldn’t remember his name. Was it Eddie? That sounded right, although Henry couldn’t be certain.

“We found some fingerprints,” the man told Jo as the three of them walked towards the vehicle, “and some scratches and dirty footprints on the walls in the back. It looks as if someone’s been held in here recently.”

She nodded. “Thanks, Eddie,” _I knew it,_ Henry thought triumphantly, “that fits with what we’ve got so far. Any idea where the driver is?”

They arrived at the van, and Eddie shook his head. “The van’s been here for at least seven hours, though. He could have gotten anywhere in that time.”

“He?” Jo asked.

Eddie opened his mouth to speak, but Henry got there first. “You estimated from the height of the steering wheel and position of the seat, I assume?” Eddie nodded, and Henry continued for Jo’s benefit, “As men tend to be taller than women, if the seat is a good distance from the steering wheel, it is usually a good indication that a man has been driving. Any fingerprints?”

It took Eddie a moment to realise that Henry was talking to him. “We found a couple of different prints,” he said, walking them around the van to the passenger seat. “These ones,” he pointed to a section of the metal with patches of fingerprint dust, “are all over the van. We think they probably belong to the owner. But these,” they moved around to the back of the van, “are only in the back, which probably means they belong to whoever was being held inside.”

“What about the third set?”

“I’m coming to those,” Eddie told her. “There’s a partial print on the steering wheel, but we probably won’t be able to get anything from it. Apart from what I’ve shown you, the van’s been wiped clean, even the top.”

Jo thanked him, and she and Henry turned to walk back to their car. “The guy knew what he was doing, then,” she said. “So he grabbed Lucas, took him goodness knows where, and then dumped the van in the open for us to find.”

Henry glanced around. “Yes, this is rather open, isn’t it? It’s a wonder nobody saw it happen.” As he looked around, he registered the familiarity of the place. It was exactly the same spot where he usually surfaced after dying, or very close to it. Turning around, he could see the bridge that he knew so well, stretching across the river. It was quite the coincidence, he thought, Lucas disappearing in the same place he appeared.

As Henry turned back to Jo, a terrible thought began to form in his mind. What if it wasn’t a coincidence? He tried to push the idea away, but it stayed, refusing to budge.

“Jo,” he said casually, “can we find out whether there has been anyone admitted to the hospital today under the same circumstances as James Carter?”

“Sure,” she frowned, pulling out her phone. “Why, do you think he might have done this with someone else?”

“Just call it a hunch,” Henry said.

Jo raised an eyebrow, but nonetheless called Lieutenant Reece. The phone rang only once before it was answered. “Jo. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything’s fine,” Jo told her. She quickly relayed what had happened, as well as Henry’s hunch.

“I’ll get someone onto that right away,” Reece said. “I’ll call you back.”

Jo nodded, and sat down on the car bonnet to wait. Henry joined her, and together they stared out at the river, Henry’s mind filled with the implications of his hunch. There was only one person who knew this much about him, and…no. It couldn’t be. Could it?

It was only ten minutes before Reece called. “Nora Morgan,” she said when Jo answered.

“No, this is Jo Martinez,” she replied, confused.

Jo could almost hear Reece’s eye-roll. “There’s a woman called Nora Morgan in the hospital. She was attacked at her home late this morning. By the time she was found, there was no sign of her attacker, and her car was missing.”

Jo pushed herself off the engine. “We’ll get down to the hospital right away,” she said, gesturing to Henry that he should get into the car. They sat down together, and Jo hung up the call, quickly turning on the engine and putting the car into gear.

“Has James Carter woken up already?” Henry asked, frowning: he hadn’t thought the victim would be ready to speak for another day, at the very least.

Jo shook her head. “You were right, about there being another victim who matched the profile,” she told him, turning the car around and heading out of the carpark. “An old lady was knocked unconscious and her car was stolen, shortly after this van was abandoned.”

Henry nodded. “Did she have any connection to the other victim?” he wondered aloud.

“Not that we know of yet,” she told him as they turned onto the main road, “but we might find something. Her name is Nora, by the way. Nora Morgan.”

Jo continued to tell Henry what Reece had said about the second victim. She was so focused on the story, however, that she did not notice that Henry was sitting stock-still beside her, face ashen, staring into space as if he had seen a ghost. Which, in a way, he had.

* * *

Lucas opened his eyes to…nothing. He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again; but all he could see was darkness.

The first thing he noticed was that his body hurt. He supposed it was probably something to do with the fact that he was lying on his side on a hard surface, his hands tied behind his back with what felt like a cable tie.

The second thing Lucas noticed was that wherever it was, it felt cramped and hot, and smelled faintly of gasoline. His knees were bent, and when he tried to straighten them out, they thumped up against a hard surface.

The last thing Lucas remembered was getting his breakfast, then taking the shortcut to work. He had heard tyres screeching, then there had been a sudden pain on the side of his head, which lingered still. After that, nothing.

Now, Lucas didn’t have very much experience in being knocked out and tied up, but from what he could tell he was in the trunk of a car. The surface his face was pressed against felt like carpet, and the dimensions seemed about right, based on the dead bodies he had seen in trunks before. Lucas was quite proud of this observation, especially considering the throbbing in his head.

It occurred to Lucas that he should probably try to get out of the trunk, or at least try and get someone’s attention. With difficulty, he rolled onto his back and raised both knees to his chest, kicking at what he thought was the top of the trunk. When that yielded no results, he felt around with his feet and tried kicking above the wheel arch, and then at the wall in front of him; but yet again, nothing happened. Whoever had captured him and put him there, they evidently hadn’t stuck around. Or perhaps they had, and they were laughing at him from outside the car. The thought made him shudder.

After a couple minutes, Lucas gave up trying to get out, deciding to save his strength for…whatever was going to happen. Instead, he lay still, and wondered why whatever was happening, _was_ happening. Perhaps he had heard something he shouldn’t, and had been kidnapped to keep him quiet. Maybe he was secretly the heir to some large fortune, which someone was trying to steal. Or perhaps it was a practical joke, and his friends would open the trunk at any moment and let him out.

Somehow, that seemed unlikely.

* * *

 Back at the police precinct, Reece turned to the assistant medical examiner. “Nice work finding the second victim so quickly,” she said.

Rosie smiled modestly. “I didn’t have much else to do,” she confessed, “and Lucas is a nice guy. All of us downstairs want him to be found.”

“Well, you’re a good worker,” Reece complimented her. “Sorry, but I don’t think I caught your full name earlier,” she realised.

“It’s fine,” she assured the Lieutenant, smiling. “My name’s Rosalie. Rosalie Farber.”


	5. Outlive Us All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so many of you were (understandably) upset that this story was not finished before the end of the ficathon. The truth is, I did finish the story, and then AO3 decided it would be a good idea to lock me out of my account so I couldn't post the final two chapters. Anyway, here's the next chapter now, so no more cliffhanger. I'll post the final chapter tomorrow. I am really sorry about this.

Déjà vu is a common sensation amongst humans. It is normal to feel, just for a moment, as if one has already experienced what they are currently seeing or hearing, even if they know they have not.

Henry Morgan was all too used to the feeling of déjà vu. History has a habit of repeating itself, and when one has been alive for more than two centuries, one tends to notice such patterns. However, in Henry’s case, the sense of déjà vu can be a result of him actually experiencing the same situation twice over, rather than just thinking he has.

Such was the case with the victim of the assault and car theft. Upon walking into the hospital to visit Nora Morgan, he was met with a strong sense of déjà vu. For a moment, he remembered the very last time he had seen his first wife.

* * *

  _“Why did you visit me, Henry?” Nora asked, her weak eyes looking to where he stood stiffly at the end of her bed, hands folded in front of him. “The last time I saw you, you claimed that I ruined your life.”_

_“You did,” Henry said irritably, fiddling with his tie. Coming here had been a mistake, he knew. But…_

_“I’m dying,” Nora said eventually. “That’s why you are here, is it not? You feel guilty, and want to apologise.”_

_“_ I _want to apologise?” he said incredulously, dropping his hands to his sides. “I was not the one who sent my husband to the asylum when he tried to tell you a secret.”_

_“And how was I supposed to realise that you were telling the truth?” Nora demanded of him, her voice still strong despite her body being weak. “The idea that you were immortal seemed incredible at the time. Surely you must understand that, Henry.”_

_“I was your husband,” he said. His voice was close to breaking. “I should have been able to confide in you, to trust you.”_

_“I know,” she said sadly. “I know, and I have since apologised for mistrusting you.”_

_“You shot an innocent woman,” Henry pointed out._

_“I was trying to shoot you.”_

_“Then you would have shot an innocent man.”_

_Nora coughed weakly, then sighed. “So why are you here now? The truth, Henry.”_

_Henry folded his hands again. “As I said before, I was your husband. Technically, of course, I still am. And I fear I must admit to some guilt in the matter. Had I breached the subject more delicately, perhaps you would have believed me, and we would not be here now.” He walked around to the side of her bed. “I did love you, dearest Nora, and I do not wish for us to part on hostile terms.”_

_Nora smiled for the first time since Henry had arrived at her bedside. “Oh, Henry,” she said, reaching up and taking his hand in both of hers. His hand felt strong and steadfast against her own pale, soft skin. “I loved you also. I suppose that I still do, in a way.” She patted the back of his hand gently. “I would not wish for us to part on hostile terms, either,” she told him softly._

_Henry’s face softened. He reached down with his other hand and pushed a wisp of white hair away from Nora’s face. “And for that, I am glad,” he said gently._

* * *

 Henry was brought back to the present day at the sound of his name.

“…and this is Doctor Henry Morgan,” Jo was saying to the woman lying in the hospital bed. “We’re here to ask you a few questions about the attack this morning, if that’s all right, Ms Morgan.”

This Nora Morgan was older than Henry’s first wife was when she died. Despite her age, she sat upright in the bed, eyeing him and Jo suspiciously. “He doesn’t look like a doctor,” she told Jo.

Jo’s lips twitched into what was almost a smile. She walked to stand at the side of the lady’s bed, while Henry stayed at the end. “What’s the last thing you remember happening, Ms Morgan?”

“Please, call me Nora,” she said. “The last thing I remember clearly was getting some food out for Tilly.”

“And Tilly is…?” Jo asked.

“My cat,” Nora told her, in a tone that suggested that it should have been obvious. “I was getting her food ready, when I saw someone directly behind me. I tried to turn around to see who it was, but the next thing I knew, I was lying in this place with people fussing around me. I do hate it when people fuss around me,” she confided to Jo. “They think I’m old.”

Jo tried not to smile. “You don’t seem old,” she assured her.

Nora gave her a hard stare, making Jo shrink into herself slightly, a feat not easily achieved. “I don’t like being patronised, either,” she said shortly.

Before Jo could respond, Henry jumped in. “How did you manage to see your attacker if they were behind you?” he inquired.

Nora turned her gaze upon him, but unlike Jo, he stayed standing strong. After a few moment of hard staring, she said, “I saw him reflected in the kitchen window in front of me.” She seemed grudgingly impressed that he had not been deterred by her glare. “There’s a plant directly outside the window, which makes it easier to see the reflection.”

“Can you give us any details about the attacker?” Jo took the opportunity to ask, flipping her notebook open and readying her pen.

“He was directly behind me,” Nora repeated, turning to look back at Jo, more softly this time. “It was difficult to see.”

“Anything could be significant, even small things,” Jo explained. “Did you notice their gender, height, age? Anything distinctive they were wearing?”

Nora pursed her lips, thinking back. “It was a man,” she said eventually. “He was tall, or taller than me at least. I couldn’t see much of his face, because he had one of those flat caps on. They look old now, but they were all the fashion a few decades ago. Of course, I don’t suppose either of you would remember that,” she said, looking from Jo to Henry, and back again.

It was Henry’s turn to try not to smile.

“Is there anything else you can remember about his appearance?” Jo pressed.

Nora shook her head. “I don’t think so. I wish I could be of more help to you two.”

“You’ve given us plenty already, thank you, Ms Morgan,” Henry told her. Jo stood up, and the two of them turned to leave.

“He was fast,” Nora said from behind them. They turned back, to see her staring off into the distance. “He moved like a cat.”

Jo made a note in her notebook. “Thank you, Ms Morgan,” she said, and turned to go once more.

“At least we have a physical description now,” Henry offered as they walked out and into the lobby, “even if it is the same as the man on the surveillance footage.”

Beside him, Jo was reading over her notes with a faint smile. “You know, ‘The Cat in the Flat Cap’ doesn’t have quite the same ring to it as ‘The Cat in the Hat’.”

“That it does not,” Henry agreed.

Inwardly, he was reflecting on the whole case. It was a fairly large coincidence for Lucas to have been kidnapped by someone in a flat cap, who had also injured a James Carter and a Nora Morgan. It was as if somebody was attacking his life, both past and present, to see how he would react.

By the time they arrived at the car, Henry was certain he knew what was happening, or at least part of it. The only thing he had to do now was to prove it.

* * *

 It was getting late by the time they arrived back at the police precinct. Jo headed upstairs to the homicide department, while Henry went straight down to the morgue, muttering some excuse about needing to check Lucas’ locker. He passed through quickly, heading to his office.

“Doctor Morgan?” Rosie said as he dashed past her work bench. “Is everything all right?”

“Perfectly, thank you,” he said quickly, entering his office and closing the door firmly behind him. Once inside, he went straight to his desk and picked up his phone, dialling a number which was now all too familiar.

It was answered after two rings. “Hello, Henry,” a gravelly voice said. “Have you figured it out yet?”

“You took Lucas,” Henry said. It wasn’t a question.

“Perhaps.” Adam sounded almost amused. “I take it you found my clues, then. Do you know how difficult it was to find a James Carter and a Nora Morgan of the right ages in New York?”

“I’d imagine quite difficult,” Henry said evenly. “I am wondering why you went to so much trouble to kidnap an assistant medical examiner.”

“I never intended to keep him,” Adam said. “It was a test, to see how you’d react to having someone close to you disappear. I would have taken Abraham, although I did promise not to harm him, and I am a man of my word.”

“How noble of you,” Henry said sardonically. “And how did you find my reaction?”

Adam considered the question for a few moments. “It was rather lacking,” he said eventually. “You took longer than I had anticipated to even notice that he was gone. You are so young, I would have expected you to still have some compassion, at least.”

“And how would you know how long it took me to notice?” Henry bluffed. “For all you know, I have been looking for him all day.”

“I had a feeling you might try and deny it,” Adam told him, “so I put someone of my own in your office, to keep an eye on you.”

Henry frowned, glancing around his office to make sure he was alone. Then he glanced out into the brightly-lit morgue, to see Rosie sitting on the bench closest to his office, watching him. When she saw him looking at her, she raised one hand and gave him a little wave.

“You planted an assistant M.E in my morgue?” he asked, staring at Rosie, who had lowered her hand and was now staring at him.

“Well done.” Adam’s tone of voice was neutral as always. “Adopted children can be useful sometimes, although they are so demanding when they are young.”

Henry frowned again. “Rosie is your adopted daughter?”

“For a time,” Adam said. “Then I died, and she was put into care. Imagine her surprise when her father turned up out of nowhere and asked her to pose as a medical professional.”

“She did it, though.”

There was the barest hint of a smile in Adam’s voice. “She always was an impressionable child. She even kept my name after I died, unlike her brother.” His voice took on an almost conversational tone. “His name was Clark Walker. You met him, do you remember?”

Henry’s eyes widened at the mention of the all-too familiar name, the name that had haunted him for weeks. “You sent your own son for me to kill?”

“You didn’t have to kill him, Henry,” Adam reminded him. “That was entirely your choice."

Henry gritted his teeth and frowned, turning away from Rosie. He couldn’t go out and challenge her in a morgue with other people working in it, and her staring was beginning to make him feel uncomfortable, especially now he knew who she was. “How did you know about James Carter and Nora Morgan?”

“Immortal people are surprisingly easy to find in the history books,” Adam told him, “when you know who you are looking for.”

“But why go to all this trouble?” he asked. “Why abduct and injure all these people, just to get to me? You could have called. After all, you have my telephone number.”

“To prove a point,” came the somewhat surprising reply. “I was…curious about you. About how being alive for longer could affect a person’s compassion. You think you are better than me, because you have only killed one man. But in reality, we’re the same.”

Henry’s grip tightened on the phone. “We’re nothing alike.”

“You’ll see,” Adam told him. “I’ll be seeing you again soon, Henry.”

“Wait!” Henry said, before Adam could hang up. “Where’s Lucas?”

There was a long pause, then a dark chuckle. “You already know, Henry. Just think.” There was a _click_ , and the line disconnected.

Henry gritted his teeth and spun around to look back into the morgue. Unsurprisingly, Rosie was no longer there.

He cursed and dialled the number again, but there was no answer. Henry threw the phone down and strode to the office door, hurrying through the morgue and back up to the police department.

Henry entered the Homicide department to find Jo sitting at her desk, with Mike and Reece standing across from her. They were the only ones in the office at this late hour, save for two people in the far corner, who didn’t look too thrilled at being assigned the night shift.

The three detectives gathered around Jo’s desk looked up when Henry entered the room. Jo quirked an eyebrow in an unspoken question, and he shook his head a fraction.

“Jo was telling us about the second victim,” Reece said as Henry neared the desk.

“She was quite a character,” he agreed.

“She sounds like my mother in law,” Mike said. “She’ll either outlive us all, or die trying.”

Henry took a moment to appreciate the unintended irony in Mike’s statement.

“The way you talk about her,” Jo commented, “anyone would think you wanted to see her in an early grave.”

“Hey, I’ve got nothing against the woman,” Mike began to protest, but Henry did not hear what he said next. Jo’s words had sparked something in his brain. Something to do with Adam…

“I think I know where Lucas is,” Henry said suddenly, interrupting whatever Mike was saying.

Three pairs of eyes turned to him slowly. “You what?” Reece asked, as the same time as Jo said, “How?”

“It’s a long story,” Henry said, “and we have no time to waste. Let’s go!” He turned and ran out of the office.

The other three exchanged confused looks, before getting up and following Henry out. They arrived in the hallway just in time to see the elevator doors closing on Henry. They got into the second elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor.

By the time the three detectives caught up to Henry, he was striding through the carpark towards the police cars. “Whoa, Doc, slow down,” Mike implored him, jogging to keep up.

“No time,” Henry muttered, opening the door to the first car he came across. Luckily, the keys had been left in the ignition by the previous driver, and Henry was able to get in and drive away almost immediately.

He was followed out of the carpark by another police car. “What the Hell is he doing?” Reece muttered as she pulled the car out onto the street.

“I have no idea,” Jo said from the passenger seat, frowning at the car in front of them, which was swerving all over the lane. What had Henry realised? Had there been a clue in Lucas’ locker? More importantly, why hadn’t he explained it to the rest of them?

Meanwhile, Mike looked out the back window and up at the darkening sky. “I sure hope he’s right,” was all he said.

Twenty minutes later, Henry’s car slowed down and pulled over. “Finally,” Reece muttered, indicating and pulling smoothly to a stop at the side of the road in front of him. The three detectives opened the car doors and stepped out as one, walking over to Henry, who was standing on the sidewalk waiting for them.

“I am never letting you drive again,” Reece told Henry firmly. He had the grace to look sheepish.

Jo looked around them. It was difficult to see in the almost-darkness, but it looked as if they were next to a cemetery. “Why did you bring us here, Henry?”

“We know that Lucas’ abductor is both violent and ruthless, correct?” Mike nodded, and Henry continued. “But if you recall, his method of attack was both precise and careful, which is unusual for someone with his motive. Each time, he was very careful to injure his victims, rather than killing them outright. Each move was cool and calculated, careful to harm but not kill.”

“Why are we at a graveyard, Henry?” Reece asked impatiently.

“I believe our killer has an interest in death, or at least has experience with it. It makes sense that whoever they are, they would bring Lucas to this place, one associated with death. He kidnapped Lucas, whereas he left the other victims where they were.”

“Why this place in particular, though?” Mike asked with a frown. “There’s plenty of cemeteries in New York for them to choose from.”

“This one is the closest to the place the last van was abandoned,” Henry said simply. He folded his arms in front of him, waiting for the verdict on his hypothesis.

Jo and Mike looked to Reece for approval, who was watching Henry with a critical eye. After a long pause, she sighed and nodded. “All right,” she said. “It’s the best we have. But,” she held up one finger, “if Lucas is not here, this case is being handed over to Missing Persons straight away. Do you understand?”

Henry nodded. “Perfectly.”

“Right.” Reece turned to Jo. “Can you get the flashlights out of the cars? I have a feeling we’ll need them.”

“Sure thing.” Jo turned and walked back to the cars.

Mike peered through the cemetery gates, squinting. “Exploring a cemetery after dark. Great,” he muttered. “At least it’ll be a good story to tell my boys.”

Jo returned with four flashlights. She handed one to each of the assembled people, and together they switched them on and turned towards the gates, dark and foreboding.

Reece swallowed. “Right,” she said. “We’ll split up, we can get more covered this way. Mike and Jo, you take the left hand side. Henry and I will take the right.”

They all nodded, and Mike, who was closest, pulled at the padlocked gates. They opened with a loud _creak_ , followed by a metallic _clang_ that made them all jump, before realising that the padlock was banging against one of the gates. They entered in single file, beams from the flashlights scurrying along the ground like rabbits as they got their bearings.

After a few moments, they split up. Henry watched Jo and Mike disappear into the almost-darkness, their flashlight beams bobbing along the gravestones.

Looking around, Henry took a few moments to get his bearings. He had been here before, of course, but in the light of day; and as we all know, all places look different and sinister at night, especially cemeteries. He gripped his flashlight firmly and headed off in what he hoped was the right direction.

Approaching the spot he had once met Adam, Henry’s sense of foreboding grew. He kept his light pointed at the ground, unsure exactly what he would find, but hoping that it would be Lucas.

As he neared the bench Adam had been sitting on, Henry’s light found an object, sticking out from behind one of the gravestones. Quickening his step, he realised that it was in fact a foot, lying on the ground. It was clad in an old converse sneaker, and Henry could not tell whether it was that of a man or a woman.

Finally, Henry reached the gravestone and looked behind it. When he saw who the sneaker belonged to, he paled, an involuntary gasp issuing from his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I lied about the lack of cliffhanger. Sorry! Tomorrow, I promise.


	6. The Wrong Body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here (finally) is the final chapter! Thank you for reading this story, I'm so glad so many people liked it. I loved writing it.

“Over here!”

Mike and Jo turned at the sound of Henry’s shout. They exchanged a glance, then began to run towards where the voice had come from, their flashlights shaking with the movement.

When they grew closer to where Henry was, they could see Reece in the distance, running towards them from the other direction. The three detectives arrived at the gravestone at the same time, to see Henry kneeling behind it, bending over someone’s body. They exchanged tense looks, certain that they had been too late.

After a moment, Henry looked up at them. “She’s dead,” was all he said. Were those tears on his cheeks?

They frowned at the female pronoun, leaning forwards and looking over the gravestone at the body. It was definitely that of a female. The face was covered with blood, which was also matted in her hair; but nonetheless could be recognised as that of Rosalie Farber, the new assistant medical examiner.

Jo clapped a hand to her mouth. Reece closed her eyes briefly, and sighed. Mike frowned, looking from Henry to Rosie’s body. “Why?” was all he said.

Henry looked up at him, his face stricken. “I don’t know,” he lied, choking the words out. He still couldn’t quite believe that Adam could do such a thing, at least not to his own daughter.

“We need to get Forensics down here,” Reece said eventually, pulling out her phone and dialling the precinct.

Mike knelt down beside Henry, who was still on the ground by Rosie’s body, and put a hand on his back. “Come on, Doc,” he said. “Don’t want to contaminate the scene.”

Henry nodded and stood up slowly, shoulders heavy with regret. He knew that it was his fault that Rosie was dead. She knew too much about both the immortals for her own good. Even worse, there would be no way for the police to discover that Adam was guilty, if they could even prove his existence.

Jo sighed defeatedly, finally looking away from Rosie’s body. Her flashlight beam skittered across the ground, eventually coming to a rest against a wooden bench a few yards away from where they stood. After a few second, she noticed that the light was shining off something beyond the bench. Frowning, Jo moved her flashlight beam up past the top of the bench, to rest on a car which she realised was parked on an angle, between two gravestones. “Guys,” she said suddenly, pointing to the car with both her hand and her flashlight.

The other three looked around to see a green car, exactly matching the description of the car owned by Nora Morgan. Without saying anything, Jo and Henry started to run towards the car, with Mike and Reece hot on their heels.

* * *

 Inside his trunk, Lucas Wahl slowly became aware of muffled voices coming from somewhere above him. It sounded as if they were shouting, although he could not hear what they were saying.

With difficulty, Lucas pulled himself out of the half-sleep he had slipped into, partly out of hunger and exhaustion, and partly because of his cramped muscles. He managed to wake up enough to raise his feet to his chest and kick them onto the wall above the wheel-arch again, hoping to get the attention of whoever was there.

The voices paused for a moment, then began again in earnest, becoming louder. Lucas thought he heard his name, although he could not be certain.

There was some scuffling, then a _crack_. The trunk opened up, and a bright light shone in Lucas’ eyes. He squinted and turned his head away, and the light moved to beside his face, rather than directly on it.

It took Lucas’ eyes a few moments to adjust to the partial light. He was able to make out two figures standing over him, silhouetted by a light from behind, which illuminated their hair like halos.

Lucas licked his lips, swallowing weakly. He had not said anything for a long time, and he was not sure he would be able to speak. “Angels,” he croaked out eventually. It was all he could think to say.

Above him, Henry Morgan and Jo Martinez exchanged a triumphant look. “Hello, Lucas,” Henry said. “You’re late for work.”

* * *

 Half an hour later, Lucas sat on the chair at Jo’s desk in the police precinct. He had a blanket wrapped around him, but still he felt cold. He raised a plastic coffee cup to his lips, taking a careful sip before looking up at the people assembled around him. His gaze moved from Henry to Jo, then to Mike, and on to Lieutenant Reece.

“So you all stayed late to look for me?” he asked eventually.

Reece answered for all of them. “Of course we did, Lucas. You’re a friend, and we care when our friends go missing.” For a moment, it looked as if she shot Henry a stern look, although Lucas couldn’t be sure.

Lucas looked down at his coffee cup. “Wow,” he said. “Thanks, guys. It means a lot, really.”

“You don’t need to thank us,” Jo told him with a smile.

“We missed you,” Henry added. “Autopsies are never quite the same without your comments.”

“Yeah,” Mike said. “What would we do without the resident nerd?”

Jo and Reece immediately shot Mike stern looks, but Lucas just smiled faintly. “At least it’s a title.”

Reece turned to give Henry another hard look. Henry shifted his weight, and cleared his throat. “I can, er, think of another title you might like,” he said haltingly.

Lucas looked up hopefully, but did not say anything.

“After all the, uh, the hardship you have endured today,” Henry began, “as well as your exemplary work lately, I – that is, Doctor Epstein and I – have a proposition for you.” _Why is this so hard to say?_ he wondered. “As you know, Rosie, er, Farber was killed today, and so there is a position open in the morgue. We wondered whether you would be interested in moving up to a new position, to a Chief Assistant Medical Examiner.”

Lucas raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know that was a job.”

“It wasn’t, at least not until today,” Henry explained hastily. “Doctor Epstein has created a new position for you, and we would both be honoured if you were to accept. It would involve an increase in pay, of course, as well as other benefits. Would you be interested?”

Lucas thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Yes,” he said, “I’d love to.”

Henry let out a breath. “Excellent.”

“Now you won’t have to lie as much to the people at the coffee shop, either,” Jo commented. Lucas shot her a startled look, and she smiled. “We went to the Brown Sugar Café while we were looking for you,” she explained. “You’re very popular there, did you know? You’ll have to tell them you’re okay next time you go there.”

Lucas nodded. “Thanks. I’ll tell them on my way to work tomorrow.”

Reece frowned. “Surely you won’t be…”

“…you don’t need to come in tomorrow, Lucas,” Henry finished. “You can take some time off, to fully recuperate after your ordeal.”

Lucas smiled, shaking his head. “It’s okay, Doctor Morgan. I’ll be fine to come in tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” Reece asked, looking concerned.

“Getting kidnapped is no small thing, Lucas,” Mike commented.

“No one would think any less of you for not coming in tomorrow,” Jo added.

“Really, I’m fine,” Lucas assured them. “But thank you, really. Like I said, the fact that you were worried, it means a lot to me.”

* * *

 It was nearly midnight when Henry finally arrived home, to find Abraham dozing on the couch. Henry stopped in the doorway and smiled to himself, looking at Abe. Normally, he would be happy to let his son sleep, although that position would not do any favours for his back.

Henry crossed the room and placed a careful hand on Abe’s shoulder, shaking him gently awake. Abe’s eyes fluttered open, and he squinted. “Wassat?” he mumbled to himself, looking around the room before focusing on Henry.

“Henry,” Abe said, slightly more coherently. “Did you find him?” He pushed himself fully upright, almost completely awake. All he had heard about Henry’s whereabouts was a hasty voicemail message Henry had left earlier in the evening, something about ‘Lucas’ and ‘missing’.

Henry sat down heavily in his armchair. “Yes,” he said, “we found Lucas.”

“Is he okay? Do you know who took him?”

Henry sighed wearily, rubbing his forehead. “Adam took him.”

Abe sat up straighter, fully awake now. “Adam? As in your immortal buddy Adam? As in your immortal psycho buddy Adam who tricked you into killing someone?”

“Yes, that Adam,” Henry said, wincing at the reminder. He averted his gaze, looking instead at the rug at his feet.

Abe leaned forward expectantly. “Well?”

“Well,” Henry said, “Adam kidnapped Lucas this morning, and left clues for me to find. He claimed that he wanted to see whether my longevity had affected my compassion in comparison to his, or some such. And then he killed his daughter.”

“Lucas had a daughter?”

Henry paused. “No,” he frowned, “Adam did. She was posing as an assistant medical examiner to spy on me.”

Abe held up a hand. “Wait. Was she immortal, too?”

Henry sighed. “Unfortunately not. Adam adopted her, as well as her brother. He had two children.”

Abe noticed the past tense. “ _Had_ two children?”

Henry turned to Abe, and for the first time, Abe noticed the look in his father’s eyes. It was a horribly familiar look, one Abe had seen before, and one which he was sure he would never forget. It was the same tortured look Henry had had when he had lost Abigail, and the look he had after he killed the man in their basement.

“I killed him,” Henry said quietly, and in that moment Abraham understood what had happened that day. He understood how painful it must have been for Henry to lose Lucas, and then find out that Adam also had a family. Now, Abe didn’t know all the details, but he knew Henry well enough to know that he would be blaming himself for what had happened.

Abe reached over and placed a hand on Henry’s arm, resting on the chair arm. “Hey, pops,” he said gently. “It’s not your fault.”

Henry looked away again, this time towards the window and out into the darkness beyond. “I know,” he said, although he didn’t sound convinced.

“I mean it,” Abe told him. “Whatever Adam decides to do is down to him, not to you. _He_ manipulated you into killing Clark Walker, and then _he_ killed his own daughter.”

“Rosie,” Henry said quietly. “Her name was Rosie.”

“And I’m sure Rosie had her own reasons for spying on you,” Abe said. “It’s not your fault that she’s dead, or that Lucas was kidnapped.”

There was a long pause. “I’ve been here too long,” Henry said eventually. “I’ve made too many connections. I need to leave, to go somewhere else, where Adam cannot hurt people.”

Abe sat back in his chair. “Where will you go this time?” he asked. “Even you must be running out of places by now.”

“I haven’t been to the Philippines in a while,” Henry said thoughtfully.

“And then what? Wait until Adam tracks you down again?” Abe demanded. “Look, I’m sorry, but hiding from police and authorities is one thing. Hiding from a psychopathic immortal is quite another.”

“If he finds me, I will have to move again,” Henry said, looking back towards Abe, although even he didn’t sound quite convinced.

“You can’t really be planning to do that forever,” Abe told him. “You two have eternity together, remember. Plenty of time to sort out your differences. But right here, right now, you have people who look up to you, and respect you, and care about you. And you care about them, too, or else you wouldn’t have arrived home at this godforsaken hour after looking for Lucas. So if you want to leave those people, then fine. Go to the Philippines, or wherever. But I’m staying right here.” He leaned back on the sofa and folded his hands over his stomach, as if illustrating his point.

Henry looked at him beseechingly. “Abraham…”

“I mean it,” Abe said. “Sorry, but I’m getting too old to be traipsing around the world. If you want to go, I will always cover for you, you know that.”

“You always were a stubborn child,” Henry told him, then he sighed. “Very well. I will stay, but only for Lucas’ sake. He has been through quite an ordeal today, and it would not be good for him to lose an important person in his life so suddenly.”

Abe looked at him, almost smiling now. “You know, you really need to get that lack of self-confidence sorted someday,” he commented.

Henry gave him a withering look. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Abe said. “And I’m glad that you changed your mind.”

“Thank you,” Henry told him. “Really.”

Abe just smiled. “So what’s going to happen tomorrow?” he asked after a moment. “If this Rosie’s dead, there must be a body. The police are going to investigate it, right?”

“I assume so,” Henry said. “I also assume that Adam has another scapegoat lined up somewhere, if he does not try to pin this on me as well.”

“He wouldn’t try that again, would he?”

“I do not know,” Henry admitted. “I do not know how Adam’s mind works, nor would I want to. I only hope I do not have to do the autopsy.”

“You can pass that off to someone else, can’t you?”

“Most likely.” Henry sighed, looking out the window again. It was impossible to know what would happen the next day. Would the police find a killer? Would they assume that Rosie had kidnapped Lucas? If so, would they be able to work out why? Would it link back to him? Henry was not sure of the answers to any of these questions. The one thing of which he was sure, though, was that Lucas was safe from Adam. The “psychotic immortal buddy” had made his point, and Henry had a feeling that he would not hear from him again for a while. That thought at least was comforting.

Henry looked over at Abe, who had stood up and was pouring them each a drink. Alcohol was not strictly necessary at this time of night, but Henry appreciated the gesture, especially after the evening he had had. Perhaps Abe had sensed that, as he returned to the sofa and handed Henry a glass, raising his own. “To staying put,” he said, and Henry echoed the sentiment, taking a sip of his drink.

Whatever was going to happen in the morning, Henry decided, would happen whether or not he worried about it. One thing that Henry’s long life had taught him was that it was not always beneficial to look to the future. Sometimes, it was better to live in the present, which Henry decided to do now. Lucas was safe. Adam was gone, at least for now. And at this moment, all he needed to do was relax in his armchair and listen to Abe telling him about a difficult customer he had had earlier that day.

Henry smiled, and looked out the window once again, into the night beyond. Things were far from perfect; but they were good, and for now, that was all that mattered.


End file.
